


Between Royal Sheets

by Buntheridon



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Anal Sex, Bisexual Male Character, Blowjobs, Cunnilingus, F/M, M/M, Magic, Magical Senses, Multi, Open Relationships, PWP, Pansexual Character, Rimming, Seriously no plot at all, Silly, Smut, Threesome - F/M/M, Vaginal Sex, World of Warcraft: Battle for Azeroth, overly florid metaphors and euphemisms that’s how I roll, shameless objectification of hot fictional characters, smut smut sausage and smut, the better devil’s threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:47:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26677696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Buntheridon/pseuds/Buntheridon
Summary: The Champion of the Alliance receives a well-earned reward for all her hard work for the faction.
Relationships: Anduin Wrynn/Original Female Character(s), Wrathion/Anduin Wrynn, Wrathion/Anduin Wrynn/Original Character(s), Wrathion/female OC
Comments: 12
Kudos: 66





	Between Royal Sheets

She’s nearly at the end of her wits.

It wasn’t that the adventures and tasks provided and shared by the recently returned Black Prince were impossible as such or more taxing than any other hero duties the Champion of the Alliance has been accustomed to deal with in recent years. She’s a very capable wielder of Arcane, Fire and Frost magic, holder of the title Archmage during the last war against the Legion, a renowned Champion of the Frozen Wastes; smashing through cultists in Blackwing Descent in search of the black dragon bones was a success in the end, even though Wrathion was incapacitated for a while there and the enemy slipped away before they got to her.

No, the problem is the young dragon himself. Matured beyond his years –  _ dragon years are different from human years,  _ as he keeps reminding – and wiser than before, learned, polite and friendly. There’s nothing wrong in his actions, this time, and he did get a royal punch in the face for his past wrongdoings.

It’s the  _ maturing bit _ that is the problem. You couldn’t even use the old phrase about  _ blooming  _ of someone like Wrathion, the floral metaphors fail his glorious transformation completely. The Champion needs to use Frost spells on her face repeatedly while in the company of the beautiful, dark haired, flame-eyed seduction on two legs (and sometimes on leathery wings). She’s been slippery between her thighs the whole day and he isn’t even trying! Either he’s not aware of his allure or he’s doing it on purpose to amuse himself in the presence of mere mortals (are dragons mortal now? She can’t remember exactly). It’s like he’s flirting even when talking about his weird family tree or requesting a mana bread.

It might all be the tricks of her own lusty imagination, she scolds herself. It’s been a while since she got laid. After returning to the Chamber of Heart Wrathion thanks the mage earnestly and asks her to visit king Anduin Wrynn later in Stormwind for her reward that would by then be ready.

Is there an extra glimmer in his red eyes or did she imagine it again? She’s too baffled to flirt back, the burn in her loins making her embarrassed – not as such, she wouldn’t mind a bit of fun, but this is a professional situation with  _ a possible future dragonflight leader, _ for Light’s sake!

It’s very late in the evening when she arrives at the Keep. She’s certain the king must have retired to his rooms already but there might be some representative handing her the reward. It was unclear what it was going to be – one of those surprise treasures, hopefully. Her pauldrons needed an upgrade urgently.

It’s a mild shock, therefore, to find that not only is Anduin Wrynn still awake and sitting on his throne, but there are only a couple of guards present and the huge room is illuminated with cozy candlelight.

And  _ he _ is here.

The Black Prince is sitting on the uppermost step of the throne platform, leaning his head in a very familiar manner on Anduin’s knee, of all things. The two young men are conversing quietly, smiling, and they are so devastatingly gorgeous the Champion inhales in awe and admiration. They have definitely made peace, and then some. There’s that specific burn in her lower abdomen and she’s not quite sure if she’ll be able to hide it for long. The dragon hears her and lifts his head but otherwise doesn’t give a damn that someone is witnessing their intimacy, burning eyes focusing on the mage. 

“Champion! You have arrived. Anduin, she’s the one I spoke of.”

“Good evening, Champion. I’m glad you could make it,” Anduin greets her with his pleasant, soothing voice and nods his head, an open and friendly look on his beautiful face.

The mage bows deep. While she’s standing there in attention Wrathion, without a second thought, puts his palm on Anduin’s thigh and slides it slowly under his tabard hems.

“You are incorrigible,” the king scolds him warmly and does nothing to stop him.  _ What on Azeroth is this, _ the mage wonders, confused and aroused. Glancing around she notices the guards are positioned so that none of them really look towards the throne. There’s something fishy going on here.

_ ”We _ will be giving you your reward, Champion. It’s in the royal quarters, the Alliance king will personally present you with three choices there,” Wrathion’s melodious voice purrs, eyes on the mage but his hand still doing Light knows what under the royal tabard. The usually discreet young king, who’s been rumored to be untouched and inexperienced, smiles in a way that tells her he’s definitely been initiated in the knowledge of carnal pleasures. Possibly last week, come to think of it. He  _ is _ blushing, Light bless his heart.

“You don’t particularly favor any gender over another, do you, high king?” Wrathion asks conversationally, eyes flashing in mischief.

“I don’t. And not one race either – or should I say  _ species?” _

The black dragon ignores the quip and only smiles wider, showing his sharp canines. The Champion is not sure how to react to any of this except in some inappropriate ways that include ripping off her robes, so she says the first thing that comes to mind to ease her trembling and tension.

“But… his majesty hit you!”

“Oh, I absolutely deserved that. We’ve made up since,” he says, flicking his free bracelet-adorned wrist nonchalantly – and  _ winking. _ The image that allusion creates in her mind would sell for thousands of gold in Madam Goya’s auction house were it ever put on a canvas.

“Yes. You seem ready to choose, let us go,” Wrathion announces cheerily and gets up, dusting his embroidered jacket hems in passing. Why the high king lets his advisor do all the leading is somewhat puzzling but not completely unheard of. Anduin isn’t an authoritative or a demanding monarch, and the amused smile on his lips tells he is allowing this freely. After all, it is Wrathion’s assignment.

The Champion follows the young men through the back corridors towards the king’s rooms, sighing deep but also rolling her eyes at the dragon’s swagger in front of her. A flashy little bugger, but so damn hot she could watch and listen to him all day and especially all night.

Not before they reach the door does she have a moment of lucidity to wonder for the first time why, exactly, is the reward in  _ here? _ The king doesn’t usually let the public into his chambers.

Anduin opens the door and she steps in after the dark curls dangling in front of her. Wrathion drops his pauldrons, gloves and jacket casually on a dresser and flumps down on a divan, legs wide and inviting, bracelets jingling in his wrists, deliciously putting himself on display like a prized courtesan of a ruler. Which might not be so far from the truth, the Champion’s heated mind is speculating. The king goes over to his writing desk and sits on the edge of it, thoughtful, possibly mildly red in the face.

“Would you like to present the reward options for our hero, your majesty?” Wrathion purrs, long slender fingers idly opening the top buttons of his already very revealing shirt. The mage swallows audibly and tries not to watch, failing miserably until Anduin chuckles, drawing her attention to himself. Does he sound nervous? Why would he be nervous? Now  _ she  _ is nervous.

“This is your idea,  _ advisor. _ I don’t know why I let you talk me into it. How can you even assume that she–” he stops and clears his throat, “I’m sorry, Champion. He has these funny notions sometimes and...”

“I love it when you are abashed like that, king of my heart. Very well.” He gets up from the sofa and stalks like a predator cat beside the angelic boy, his dark tones and demon-red eyes an appealing contrast to his gold and blue. He bumps his hips against him and slips his hand to Anduin’s neck drawing him into a kiss so wet and deep the mage can’t help but gasp. A sharp arrow of arousal shoots her loins when she watches the young king first jolt in surprise, then melt into the kiss and lastly push the invading dragon gently off him.

“You are being impolite, Wrathion,” he says apologetically, voice tinted with fondness and want. The scolded rascal starts opening the belt that holds the king’s tabard on his waist.

“Champion, you have three – no, four – hmm, let me count again. You have  _ five  _ different rewards to choose from. The first is a heavy sack of coins and the corruption resistant cloak I might have mentioned. You get the cloak in any case whatever you choose.”

The mage can’t tear her eyes off the scene in front of her, the lovely good-tempered king being handled by his newest advisor like he was his valet. But this disrobing has a very different mood to it from mere assisting. When he pulls the royal tabard off the king her pulse quickens considerably noticing the bulge under the fabric of the blue mageweave trousers. That, logically, makes her check the dragon’s crotch as well and  _ whoo boy. _ Both might be young, but they are definitely grown up.

“If you choose the second option, you get to  _ watch.”  _ His low, playful voice sends shivers down her spine and there’s no question of what he means by that. His hand caresses lightly down Anduin’s abdomen over his silk shirt and the king gasps, grabbing him by the wrist before it gets any lower. He seems exceptionally sensitive to the smallest of touches.

“Light – don’t…! Not… yet. She hasn’t said anything.”

“I need to give a sample, don’t I? So she can make an enlightened decision.” The dragon prince chuckles and turns his eyes to the mage. “Isn’t he the cutest? The king thinks you might not be interested at all, but I have smelled your arousal throughout the day and your pulse is now quicker than might be healthy for a mortal. All that’s missing is your word, and we’ll abide by that. You did save my life today, I think we both owe you a great debt. Can you guess the last three choices, hero?”

She sounds like an undead. “I’m… not sure. I mean, I think so but...“ her voice falters staring at the two, eyes darting from the king to the prince. Could they really be offering what she thinks they are? Or did the witches of Drustvar put a spell on her for cackles and she’s actually unconscious in a cage somewhere, dreaming and drooling for the entertainment of the crones? Her hesitation seems to amuse Wrathion, yet he’s not unkind. His smile is mischievous and teasing but also warm and friendly.

_ “Yes. _ You can choose his majesty here… or you can choose me.” There’s a pause that weighs like a clefthoof patriarch before he drops the last bit, “Or you can have us both together.”

The undignified whimper that escapes her mouth already answers him, but he waits. He lifts his arm, still locked in Anduin’s grip, until the king’s wrist is by his lips. He licks the sensitive inside of it, making Anduin draw breath sharply and the Champion sees his tongue is forked, like a snake’s. She closes her eyes, enduring the powerful wave of lust that slams over her and then she speaks.

“I’ll take the last option… if his majesty isn’t against it.”

“Excellent”, Wrathion cheers. “Are you against this, Anduin?”

The young king watches the Champion openly, letting his attraction to her show for the first time now. What an absolute gentleman. “No. I trust her to keep a secret, she’s done so in the past as she’s helped the kingdom in all our dire hours.”

“You mean this big secret here?” Wrathion chuckles and steals his hand away, sliding it over Anduin’s erection, squeezing, making him moan. Then as abruptly he detaches himself and reaches his palm towards the trembling, thoroughly  _ soaked  _ Champion invitingly.

“Come.”

“Um, hold on,” she mumbles and channels a spell to dry-wash herself after all the sweaty running and killing, and ends it with an Arcane contraception buff. Wrathion smiles.

“I could have done those for you, but we appreciate your responsible attitude.”

“I teleported to Stormwind straight from slaughtering quillrats. You know how it is.” She steps closer to the two stunning men, hesitant, intrigued, breathless with want. Like a happy child on his birthday party the Black Prince takes her hand and the king’s and leads them both towards the royal four poster bed in the adjacent bed chamber.

_ “My apologies, he’s very… enthusiastic,” _ the high king of the Alliance whispers to the mage and she can’t but laugh heartily at the odd situation.

_ “It’s alright, I… like it,” _ she answers.

“I can hear you, you know. Not only am I enthusiastic, I am also generous and curious and  _ voracious.” _ Wrathion turns on his heels and his red eyes strike flames, reminding them of his hidden nature. His bracelets clink when he lifts his hands on the Champion’s cheeks and they feel like benign fire, scorching yet tender. He slides them slowly past her ears drawing a shudder at the sensitive earlobes, pushes his fingers into her hair and draws her closer to his face. He’s taller than her so he has to bend down. His lips brush her cheek only lightly, teasing, but it feels like lightning shooting through her.

_ “Mmm, you smell delicious,” _ he murmurs, and she knows he doesn’t mean her hair. “Anduin, you are part of her reward, don’t be shy now,” the dragon cooes and the mage feels another body press against her back. Like on instinct she pushes her hips backwards and bumps into the previously featuring erection. Oh, it’s hard as steel. Wrathion pulls the king tighter into the embrace of three, the look in his eyes adoring.

“Let us get rid of these restricting garments, shall we?” He’s the master of ceremonies in this instance, softly and expertly dominating the heated, pulsating space the room has become. His lips slide down the Champion’s neck under her hair, the neatly trimmed moustaches tickling her skin. She hears shuffling of clothes behind her and realizes the prince is undressing the king further. As a response to that she searches Wrathion’s shirt buttons blindly in the narrow space between their bodies, hands finding his hot skin covered in coarse chest hair, and the feeling is magnificent. She can’t but caress his toned abdomen, palms pressed against the skin like a healer’s, until she finds the shirt hems and pulls them out of his trousers, pushing the garment off his shoulders.

_ “Don’t stop, I love to be touched,” _ he breathes under her ear and his voice is like a caress. She presses herself against his warm chest, feeling over his nipples with her fingers, his shapely muscles, the sides of his narrow waist. The skin is so smooth, the muscles underneath raw power. When Anduin’s hands, radiating the Holy Light even when not actively casting, touch her waist with a question in his considerate manner, she moans an answer her lips against Wrathion’s collarbone.

Their circle of undressing works slowly, clothes piling up around their feet. Anduin opens the laces of her robe on her back like counting prayer beads, one by one, reverently. Her skin burns everywhere, the insides of her thighs slick in anticipation, her heart slamming against her ribs. Anduin pulls down the dress, healer’s hands following the curve of her hips. Finally he dares to press his lips on her bare neck and she  _ mewls, _ repeatedly, when he’s encouraged to kiss down her spine by her feedback. The dragon encloses her breasts in his hot palms. She’s burning, panting, the acute arousal a landscape, a sea of endless pulsating pleasure and excitement. Her hands fumble open Wrathion’s trousers and push, yank them down impatiently. He has a thin golden chain glimmering around his waist, resting on his hip bones. What a flamboyant, beautiful peacock.

“Now, now, are you in a hurry, Champion?” he teases, but his chuckle is cut into a low moan when the mage wraps her hands around his revealed cock. It’s delightfully thick, so much warmer than a human’s, eager and throbbing against her grip.

“Maybe,” she gasps, painfully needy now.

“Well, that won’t do,” Wrathion scolds, with a promise and a threat. He encloses his lips around her nipple and licks around the areola, and she’s sure she’ll die of lust right about there. Behind her another erection is pressed against her buttocks, neatly nestled between them, politely nonintrusive. Anduin is pressing little kisses along her shoulder, down her biceps, so gentle. He seems to have the characteristics of a saint, while the other young man, even when behaving properly, has the trappings of a trickster and a beast.

“Please, please…” she starts to babble and her hips jerk involuntarily, greedy, when Wrathion pinches her nipple between his teeth and licks the imprisoned sensitive bud with a purpose. Her pleads finally prompt him to comply and he kneels in front of her, dragging his lips, his split tongue down her stomach. The Champion takes a handful of curls in her fists and yanks him closer but the dragon won't budge. His palms grip her thighs and his hot breath sweeps over her mound. He inhales and lets out a hungry, throaty sound.

“Let’s get on the bed,” the king suggests with a hoarse voice. And indeed that would be better, for her knees are so weak it’s only because of Anduin’s support that she hasn’t yet collapsed. The two gorgeous boys lay her in the middle of the huge mattress and sit on both sides of her.

“This is for you, hero. Tell us what you want,” Wrathion urges, while four hands travel around her skin, caressing, massaging, exploring – the burning ones eagerly with no traces of shyness, the healing ones careful and avoiding erogenous zones. For now.

“Everything, anything,” she whines, “your mouths, your cocks in me.”

“Mmm. This was choice number five, isn’t that a neat little number to aim towards?” the dragon chuckles and dives between her legs, tongue first. The contact is heavenly, her sensitive, swollen clit like a taut bowstring and he’s right, he’s so right – she’ll be coming at least that many times in this sublime treatment. Wrathion is merciful and gorges her like the sweetest fruit, deep hungry mouthfuls, sucking and swallowing, and the Champion’s hands find Anduin’s erection on their own, like she needed something to hold on to so as not to drown when her orgasm rolls over her like a tidal wave. Wrathion continues licking her, keeps it going and going, until she’s ridden it thoroughly and landed back on Azeroth.

_ Let’s hope the walls are thick,  _ she thinks, joyfully unconcerned.

She opens her eyes to witness probably the most erotic sight in her entire life. Above her the young men are kissing wetly with greedy tongues, her juices glimmering on Wrathion’s beard and Anduin’s cock in her loose grip twitches enthusiastically.

“Doesn’t she taste absolutely delicious?” Wrathion purrs, red eyes watching Anduin’s reaction. The young king nods, red-faced, and the prince kisses him some more.

She watches them for a moment in blissful serenity. Then she turns to her side on the bed and kisses the underside of the royal member, pulling the swollen, red crown to her lips. Anduin jolts and makes a delighted noise, parting himself from his lover’s arms. The mage tastes the tangy precum and that starts her heat anew. She slides her wet lips over the head and encloses it in her mouth, tongue pressing against the seam, and what a wonderful, wonderful reward it is to hear the high king keen and gasp.

“Careful,” she hears behind her as her hips are hoisted up by a pair of scalding, strong hands, “he’s very sensitive.” She’s on her knees and elbows now, and she seeks Anduin’s cock in her mouth again just as she feels Wrathion enter her slick heat. He’s slow, damnably slow again, giving her time to feel every entering inch, and she’s paused her task, moaning in her throat against the thickness that’s filling her mouth as well. Her flesh yields and accommodates the dragon’s considerable size. When he’s buried all in she’s pushed forward along Anduin’s length. Wrathion murmurs how hot and good she feels, sliding his hands over her back, possibly caressing her with some unknown magic. She grabs the king’s thighs for leverage, thumbs in reach to tease his balls and lets the dragon set the pace. She’s throbbing on every thrust, and Anduin sounds like he’s not far from coming. Her lips glide on the beautiful hard cock while the other slowly rocks her into oblivion, and in her mind’s eye she sees herself between the young men. Do those different colored pairs of eyes watch each other while they are fucking her – or more precisely, while Wrathion is taking both of them? The thought sends her pulsing over the edge and the observant dragon completes it by sliding his fingers over her clitoris, whispering obscenities in a language she does not know but seems to understand instinctively nonetheless. Anduin moans deep and twitches, and the Champion soars in a sweet climax prolonged by the high king of the Alliance shooting his release in her mouth and the heir of the Earth Warder making foreign words form pictures in her mind.

She swallows, euphoric and sated; swallows everything and licks Anduin clean. She chuckles when his cock doesn’t seem to be getting softer. Wrathion is moving inside her, likewise showing no signs of low stamina whatsoever.  _ What is this, an aristocracy thing? _

“I’m sorry, hero, I should have asked… should have at least warned you…” He’s so considerate and  _ nice  _ it hurts.

“I loved it, your majesty. Don’t worry about it.”

“Oh.” His eyes flicker towards his advisor.

“Told you it was yummy,” Wrathion purrs and eases himself out of her, not in a hurry to finish himself off. “Isn’t he a treasure, hero? Look at that, still ready to please. A good monarch knows the position is for serving, not for ruling.” He comes to lie beside the mage, cheek resting on Anduin’s thigh, eyes on his ever-standing erection.

“Don’t tease. It’ll come down soon,” the king says, sounding both chuffed and abashed.

“Oh, but it won’t if we’re fast. Champion, would you like to–?” The red playful eyes twinkle and dark eyebrows waggle suggestively and she’s on board, nodding with enthusiasm.

“Anduin, love, our hero would like to  _ lie with you _ as it were.”

“I… um.”

“Oh, if you don’t feel like it, I understand, my liege,” the mage assures him, knowing, for example, not to initiate kissing on the lips with them even if she’s thirsting for it because that’s obviously reserved for the lovers only. 

“No, it’s not that… well, it is, a bit, but more because my  _ advisor  _ here forgot that I haven’t…” The golden-haired boy looks his age now that he’s slightly baffled and stripped of his royal attire.

Wrathion gets it. “Ah. You did say you had not been with women before. I must say your court has a very peculiar approach to education, but who am I to judge other cultures and their customs.”

“I’m available for any kind of deflowering,” the mage jokes with serious intent and rolls on her back. That seems to break the awkward spell, both young men laugh at that.

“That gives me an idea. Come on, Anduin, I’m sure it all goes quite naturally.”

Glowing with bliss past, present and awaiting in the near future the mage welcomes her king into her embrace. Anduin pauses. “May I, first...?” he gestures downwards and she smiles, nodding.  _ Yes, it’s best to check the places first. _ Crouching between her legs he murmurs, “And please, call me Anduin. I insist.”

His movements are unhurried, brushing gently over her mound with his Light-infused hand, then pressing his lips on her. Despite her recent peak, or precisely because of it, she feels everything almost too sensitively. When he figures out which little part of her does all the immediate reacting and throbbing his tongue starts a pleasurable dance on it, with it, finding a rhythm that both guides and answers to her twitches. What an absolute angel, a true giver this sovereign is. Little whines indicating her rising pleasure drop from between her lips.

“See, told you,” the dragon prince croons beside them, lying against a pile of pillows leisurely, watching them, his erection bobbing over his stomach. He fondles his sack in a casual manner, uninhibited as he is. Anduin ignores him for he’s being pulled up very non-subserviently from his ears. He is so beautiful, the Champion sighs in her mind; red cheeks and full-blown pupils, golden hair messy and sweaty against his temples.

“Please,” she sighs with a husky voice, reaching towards his crotch. She guides him in and wraps her legs around his waist. A soft gasp escapes the king’s lips as he sinks into her warmth, falling into her embrace, nuzzling his face in the crook of her neck. He’s almost as big as his lover.  _ This is my king, my leader, in my arms,  _ the mage thinks in awe and the knowledge arouses her endlessly. He starts moving slowly, like tasting, with shuddering breath.

Wrathion has disappeared from where he sat and Anduin’s surprised moan wakes the Champion from the pleasurable sway of their union. He stills his hips and seems to tense, gasping silently.

“What is it – is the dragon molesting you, your majes- Anduin?”

Wrathion’s laughter sounds from behind the king. “I am, indeed. But his majesty has demonstrated a strong liking to this type of bullying.” She moves her feet lower on Anduin’s back to verify that the Black Prince is buried face deep between the king’s buttocks.

_ “Fuck,”  _ she curses, imagining that long, peculiar tongue plunging in and wriggling, preparing the blond ruler for an invasion, no doubt. Anduin tries to rise leaning on her arms.

”Wrathion – I can’t –”

”Of course you can, love,” cooes a muffled voice, ”And if not – well, we will get you back in shape between me and the lovely mage in no time.”

Anduin looks breathtaking, eyes pinched shut, mouth falling open, a shining beacon of Light for once receiving, not giving. The Champion’s hands move like on their own, cupping his cheeks, caressing through his hair. He’s hard inside her despite his doubts.

“I’m… sorry, I –” he tries to gesture about not being able to continue pleasing her, but he’s again interrupted by a shudder of intense pleasure, possibly seasoned with pain. It wouldn’t surprise the well-travelled hero to learn this priest also was a bit of a masochist. Watching his face express so much more than in his official role, so open and vulnerable and young, so totally wrecked with lust, is almost like living through him. The dragon has probably replaced his tongue with his fingers, she saw how he could retract those nails when he wanted. The sensations Anduin feels palpitate through her, their magical auras opening and entwining. 

“Sshh, don’t apologize. It’s alright, you can feel it, can’t you?” The blue eyes open, searching for her meaning and when he moans at something the multiroled advisor does it also hits through her like lightning. Her hips buckle up against the king’s, her voice joins his.

“Ohh, you found a connection. Marvellous,” Wrathion rejoices, his head appearing above and behind the delirious human. “You will enjoy this enormously, like he does.” With that he grabs Anduin’s waist and slowly pushes in him. “And like…  _ ah... _ like I do.”

She can feel the pulsating bliss radiate from the king the deeper his lover presses. Once completely inside the dragon leans against Anduin’s back, humming a low soothing note, letting him get accustomed to being stretched so. 

Anduin buries his face in her neck, biting out a rare curse. “Fuck. Wrathion. This was supposed to –  _ ahh  _ – to be – oh,  _ Light  _ – for her.”

“And it is. Look at her, love.”

The Champion’s eyelids are half-mast in an effort to keep them open, to watch Anduin’s blue eyes when he sees how enraptured she is, to watch Wrathion’s delighted, impish smirk when he starts to move inside his lover – but the tension, the magic-enriched  _ physical empathy _ is pulling her deep into a space that’s like an endless rapid fire of tiny orgasms, and her eyes flutter closed with the intensity of it.  _ That dragon is taking us both, again. _

They move as one, the dark prince leading the sway of their connected bodies, the mortals moaning and gasping. He reaches to slide his taloned fingers through the golden locks that fall free from the tie, cascading like silk on the champions cheeks. She grabs and scratches Anduin’s back to get a hold, to not drown in the threefold pleasure.

_ “Anduin,”  _ Wrathion whispers, and she feels his voice slide over her senses like a caress,  _ “Anduin. Kiss her, she needs it.” _

Like released from a binding spell the two, the young king and his Champion search blindly, clumsily for each other’s faces. When their lips meet there’s nothing chaste or polite about it, no traces of decorum whatsoever. Deep, wet, hungry kisses, tongues smashing together, teeth nearly biting. The dragon was right, the kiss is enough to ground her from her heights to start the chain reaction. She moans into his mouth, hips pushing up, riding the wave.

_ “Yes, yes, go on, go on,”  _ she hears Wrathion chant and she’s still pulsating when Anduin comes again, his hot seed filling her, his mind going blank – and she can  _ feel  _ it. In her ecstasy she opens her eyes to see the otherworldly beauty of the dragon prince, his red eyes burning and  _ smoking  _ – or is it his breath? – his nails digging into Anduin’s waist, thrusting aggressively. His pleasure bursts like Arcane and Fire released, and for a split second the Champion sees a shadow of drake wings flash from his back. He continues pounding through his orgasm, eyes squeezed shut, growling, and it seems to last longer than humans’, how delicious. Or who knows – Anduin is still moaning, his hips, his whole body grinding against her and she soars, incredibly so, yet again.

Wrathion’s forked tongue licks over his upper lip in bliss when he exhales and rests against Anduin’s back, dark curls mixing with golden wheat. 

With a gentle push he guides the three of them to collapse on their side. The mage breathes deep, languidly waiting for her pulse to calm. She feels she could just sink into these silky royal sheets and let the sleep take her.

“That… was a spectacular reward.”

A crisp puff of cleaning magic brushes over them and she opens her eyes. Wrathion is lying on his stomach, leaning on his arms and watching his companions with a pleased smile. “We owe you some yet, I think,” he teases, tracing his fingers gently on Anduin’s arm. The young king also seems about to fall unconscious, and the Champion feels a pang of guilt, guessing he hasn’t gotten much rest since the war started. Mumbling something incoherent Anduin closes his eyes and soon starts breathing deep and regularly.

“Let’s let him rest, poor darling’s been working like a madman. If you wish, you are welcome to stay the night here, Champion. We can sneak out the back together in the morning,” Wrathion grins. He gently covers his lover with a blanket, cuddling beside him under it. The mage feels too pleasantly heavy to move, so she pulls the nearest corner of a sheet over herself, already drifting away.

”I’m afraid this reward will leave me yearning for more,” she mumbles and falls asleep. The last thing she hears is the dragon prince’s melodious voice.

“Well, it just happens that I have a few more important tasks for you later.”

  
  
  



End file.
